


Take Me Home

by dare_to_do_our_duty



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, and maybe some other people also idk, merlin lives, screw you canon, what happens after?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-04 16:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12172353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dare_to_do_our_duty/pseuds/dare_to_do_our_duty
Summary: BIG KINGSMAN SPOILERSMerlin takes Eggsy's place and stands on a land mine. Eggsy and Galahad go save the world.  And then... after.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an interview Mark Strong gave about some scenes they filmed and then cut. Completely un-Betaed and unproofred.
> 
> If you haven't seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, you're not going to want to read this.  
> If you have seen the movie, have a nice fix-it fic!

Eggsy was glad of the fight, glad he had Poppy and Charlie’s metal arm and a few dozen henchmen and the two fucking robot dogs Harry was fighting alongside...was that Elton John? Anyway, as long as they were moving, fighting, saving the world (saving Tilde) he could focus on that, focus on the fierce strikes and blocking bullets with the briefcase and using his watch to hack the arm and send Charlie up the tree. 

But it still hurt because as much as he was trying not to think about it, the fact remained that Merlin, his colleague and friend, the closest person to him besides Roxy (at least inside Kingsman) was dead. And not dead like Harry had been, hit in the head by a bullet thousands of miles away from where Eggsy had watched and screamed, but dead here, dead now, dead in Eggsy’s place, dead to buy them time and a clean opening, going out singing without even getting to use the actual machete that he had pulled out with such a gleam in his eye on the plane. 

Eggsy picked himself off of Charlie’s limp body. He almost tripped backwards, grunting as someone off of his two o’clock shot at him, the bullet flying wild and hitting him square in the ribs. It didn’t break into his chest, the bullet proof fabric protecting him, but it still hurt. There’d be a good bruise tomorrow. Three more cracks shattered the tentative quiet that had fallen and he ducked his head behind his arm. Whoever was shooting had to be injured or just a lousy shot-- these bullets were just as wild as the first and although dust kicked up around his feet, none of the bullets even touched him. 

Turning and scooping up the target suitcase, Eggsy found Harry emerging from a retro- style beauty salon and looking as if he hadn’t had a good time-- his suit was spattered with makeup and nail poilsh. The older spy picked up a gun from the ground and as one they turned back towards Poppy’s Diner.

________________________________________

By the time they walk out of the diner (fifteen minutes and thirty four seconds since they went in, by Merlin’s fancy hacking watch but it feels like it’s been hours) Eggsy is actually having to focus on keeping his hands from shaking. He had been wrong-- had accused Harry of being wrong, had yelled at him-- and Harry had been right about Agent Whisky and they had almost paid a very high price. They had almost not saved the world again-- but they had. There was so much relief and anger and grief inside he felt like his chest might explode. Hence the shaking hands. 

He caught Harry watching him out of the corner of his eye and shoved his shaky hands in his pocket, looking around for where he had abandoned his briefcase. It only took him a half second to find it, still unfolded into a portable bulletproof cover and half under a guard in an atrocious letterman’s jacket with a bullet hole through the school emblem. Eggsy’s half bent over to pull the briefcase out from under the man’s legs when there’s the sharp crack of another bullet being fired. 

Generally, Eggsy wouldn’t worry too much about this except that Harry’s out here as well and since there’s now a small nick in the top of his ear and blood already dripping down.

“Fuck!” he swears with passion and yanks the bullet proof paneling all the way into the open, using it for cover as he moves towards Harry. Harry’s head had snapped up from his examination of Charlie’s body nearby when the shot had rung out and was already moving across the body strewn terrain towards Eggsy. Another shot, this one bouncing off of the suitcase at Eggsy’s head height. 

Harry and Eggsy rendezvoused in the center of the abandoned “street” a few dozen meters from the gates, turning in a coordinated movement to locate the sniper. “You all right?” Harry asked courteously as he pulled a pistol from its holster. 

“Never better,” Eggsy growled. At least the new burst of adrenaline had wiped out the hand shaking. The suitcase screen flashed once, pinpointing the shooter on the roof of the nearest building. “Looks like he needed to move forward to make his shot,” he nodded at the sniper. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Harry said and they pivoted, Harry raising the gun smoothly and pulling the trigger.

Snap. The sound of an empty chamber echoed across the otherwise silent grounds. 

“Shit,” Eggsy calmly stated and they pivoted back to get the most cover possible, both agent’s free hands flying as they searched for weapons. Eggsy’s mind was running at a million miles a second-- no bullets, second and third pistol were also empty from the fight with Charlie and the guards at the gates, Harry was running through pockets of nearby guards but there were no weapons near them on the ground, their watch darts couldn’t reach that far, and the suitcase had only held so many missiles. There was extra ammunition in the suitcase itself, but to get to them would mean closing the suitcase and costing them their cover. They’d have to get somewhere else first. “Harry,” Eggsy hissed. “We’ve got to get to cover.”

“Or at least over there,” Harry nodded towards the closest group of downed guards, an assault rifle lying near them.”

“Right,” Eggsy glanced at the uneven terrain littered with bodies. “On the count of three, we--” 

A gunshot rang out and they both instinctively flinched behind the shield but trained as they were, it took only a fraction of a second to realize the sound had come from somewhere else and a few seconds longer to watch the shooter crumple and fall from the roof, dead. 

The spies turned in unison towards the gates and raised their weapons, useless as they might have been in that moment. 

The new sniper was propped half behind a crate just inside the gate, elbows out to help aim the long rifle all the guards carried. His face was tight with pain and black with soot, but his teeth shone white for a half second as he flashed the tiniest of smiles, sun glinting off a pair of cracked Kingsman spectacles. 

“Merlin,” Harry breathed and forgoing safety for the moment, he and Eggsy dashed across the grounds, the younger man folding up the flapping suitcase as they went. 

The closer they got, the worse everything looked; Merlin’s hands were shaking worse than Eggsy's had earlier and he looked to be gripping the gun for stability as much as for protection. The soot covered up streaks of red burns and a cut behind his ear was still steadily oozing blood. There were rips in his shirt, making the burns, bruising, and blood underneath that much more visible. Merlin wasn’t wearing his suit coat and for a small second Eggsy thought he had lost it in the explosion but the moment they cleared the crates they could see real reason why.

Both of Merlin’s lower legs were gone. The sleeves had been liberated in strips from the rest of the jacket and tied just under his knees, probably as tight as the injured spy could manage. The skin and flesh under those points was red and black and coated in mud. Harry and Eggsy both looked up towards the woods as they rounded the last boxes; there was a path of blood darkened dirt all the way into the treeline from where they stood over Merlin. 

“Jesus Christ, Merlin,” Eggsy knelt next to him as Merlin’s arms gave out, dropping the spy from his position half propped on the crates and flipping him onto his back as one shoulder hit the corner of a crate hard. Eggsy pried the gun from the handler’s tight fingers and started gently probing the edges of the cuts littering Merlin’s torso. The older man shuddered at the contact and Eggsy winced; Merlin’s eyelids had fluttered to half mast-- he had lost a lot of blood already, the ground beneath him stained dark. 

“Harry, we’ve--” Eggsy looked up to find Harry frantically typing away on the keyboard of Poppy’s laptop in the pink briefcase. “What--” 

“Disabling the land mines. Telling Ginger Ale to get the jet running remotely and have a full medical team ready for when we get back.” Harry snapped the briefcase shut and came over to kneel by Merlin, reaching out to find a pulse point at his neck. 

“Right,” Eggsy said. He yanked off his own suit jacket (gentlemanly good looks be damned for the moment) and ran one sleeve through the handle of the suitcase before wrapping it around his shoulder and under his other arm, essentially strapping the case to his back. “How’re we gonna carry him?” 

“We can’t just take him like this, it’ll take too long. We don’t have that much time.” Harry popped up onto his heels and ran an eye around them. “There-- grab that.” 

Eggsy did as he was told, crossing the empty grounds to take hold of one end of a garish fluorescent sign for a pizza parlor. Despite the color, Harry had chosen well; it was roughly rectangular, had places for them to hold, and was heavy but not horribly so. He had only just begun to haul it back across the street when he heard a loud cry and doubled his speed to a near run, the sheet of metal banging the ground behind him.

Merlin’s face was white and the crack in the glasses couldn’t hide the fresh tears streaking down his face from tightly closed eyes and clearing paths through the soot. Harry’s shoulders were tense, his forehead creased as he put a careful hand on Merlin’s own shoulder. “I know, I’m sorry, sorry,” Harry said softly and Eggsy winced; Harry had tightened Merlin’s weak tourniquets. 

“Got it,” Eggsy said and Harry nodded. He had pulled off his own suit jacket while Eggsy had been gone and eyed Eggsy’s new backpack for a second. “Leave the suitcase, we’ll come back and get it. It’ll only slow us down.”

Eggsy united his jacked and dropped the case roughly. “How’re we gonna get him on?” 

“Carefully, please,” Merlin gasped and Eggsy would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so dire. 

“Merlin, good to see your eyes. Stay with us, okay?” Eggsy forced a smile as Merlin blinked once, slowly. “Harry?”

“On three,” Harry said. “One, two, three!” 

Merlin didn’t cry out as they moved him, hands on his shoulders and hips, over to the metal panel. Eggsy looked down in surprise and then winced; Merlin had caught his bottom lip in his teeth and bitten it, adding blood to his lips. “Eggsy, your jacket.” He tossed it to Harry, who tied one sleeve to his own coat. “Lift.” In tandem, they picked Merlin's litter off the ground. Eggsy kept supporting his own end while Harry carefully set the other end on the stack of crates, using their momentary support to tie the joined jackets over Merlin’s chest and under the makeshift litter to keep him from rolling off and keep his arms tight to his body.

“I’ll take front, shall I?” Eggsy asked and Harry nodded. 

“Hurry; we’ve got to get him out of here. Merlin, you still with us?”

“Mhmm.” The spy grunted, but his eyes were still open. 

Eggsy carefully turned around so that his back was to the litter and he was holding it behind him, fingers solidly wrapped around the metal where Merlin’s feet -- his heart dropped uncomfortably-- where Merlin’s legs were. He could feel the weight increase and then decrease as Harry picked up the other end, near Merlin’s head, and gently pushed him forward. “Go.”

“Wait!” A voice echoed from behind them. “What about me!” 

Eggsy startled, only months of Kingsman training and a year of missions since keeping him from dropping Merlin. He twisted his head around, ignoring the twinge in his ear, and blinked incredulously. Was that… Elton John? In a feathered suit? 

Harry muttered something that might have been a curse before turning on a gentleman’s smile and casting it towards Elton as he jogged up. “No time to explain. A plane will be arriving within a few hours for you and any others who need to leave. We have to get out of here.”

“Now,” Eggsy added, in case that wasn’t clear. 

“Right. I’ll just wait, then.” The man wandered off and Eggsy cast an incredulous look at Harry. 

“Was that Elton John?” 

“Prioritize, Eggsy.” Harry said, and they finally started moving at a fast walk out of Poppy’s little slice of suburbia. 

____________________________________

Eggsy had never been so glad to see a plane in his whole life, not even when he had emerged from Valentine’s bunker for the first time, ready to leave before everything went to shit. Merlin had saved his life that time. Actually, Merlin had save his life five or six times that day. 

Now, his arms were aching from holding the weight behind him during their thirty minute hike through the jungle to the small runway but at least they had arrived. However, they were immediately presented with their next problem. The stairs were already down and there was no way they were getting the litter up them. 

Merlin had passed five minutes ago; the pair had increased their speed several times as the terrain grew smoother, but no time as much as when Harry had suddenly called, “Merlin? Merlin!” in increasingly louder tones and Eggsy had whipped his head around to see Merlin’s eyes almost shut, a small sliver of white visible near the bottom and his head rolling limp. 

“I could probably just piggyback him up, if you spot me,” Eggsy suggested now, looking at the steep stairs. 

“I better do it, I’m taller,” Harry said. 

“Right,” Eggsy said. He balanced his end of the litter briefly on the bottom step and untied the suits, slinging them over his shoulder before setting the end fully on the ground. Harry followed suit and reached out to pull Merlin to a sitting position, ready to lift him onto his back. “Wait--” Eggsy reached out and took off Merlin’s precious glasses, tucking them into his pants pocket. “Okay.” 

Harry stood smoothly, transferring Merlin’s weight across his shoulders and moving towards the stairs in one movement. Eggsy followed him up, the roar of the jet engines picking up as Ginger Ale remotely fired up the plane, watching to make sure Harry kept his balance and didn’t bump the injured man. All went smoothly, though, and a moment later Eggsy was sitting in the cockpit, Ginger Ale giving him a heading while Harry settled Merlin on the cleared pool table. 

______________________________________

Despite the speed of the jet and their ability to clean Merlin up a little with what was on the plane ("Sorry", Ginger Ale apologized, "you took one of the planes halfway through refit. It only has our standard medical kit, instead of the updated ones"), the agent was still unconscious and looked like hell warmed over when Eggsy landed the plane back at Statesman Distillery. 

The moment the engines were whining to a halt, Ginger Ale was there along with Agent Tequila-- no longer frozen and without the blue rash coating his hands and face-- and a full medical team. Before Eggsy could even get out of the cockpit, they’d rushed Merlin away, already cutting off what remained of his shirt and starting an IV line as they took him towards an elevator set in the wall. Eggsy and Harry were left behind at the bottom of the jet stairs they had worked so hard to get Merlin up hours before. 

“Well you two both look like shit,” Tequila announced, looking them over. 

“I actually can’t say the same thing about you,” Eggsy said back, the energy needed to form a good insult abandoning him altogether. “Did it work, then?”

“Yes.” Ginger Ale holded up her tablet so he and Harry could both see. The news was in full swing, playing clips of those little vials of amber liquid being flown via drone all over the world and streams of people exiting stadiums that had been set up as trauma care centers. 

Eggsy’s knees almost gave out right then and there, from relief that everything worked, that they at least gotten Merlin back alive, that they had saved-- not everyone. Not Roxy. Or the rest of the Kingsmen. But some people at least. He turned to Harry. “I need to go call Tilde. I hope--” he cut himself off. “And my mom and Daisy.” 

Harry nodded. “I’ll go find where they’re going to put Merlin and meet you later.”

“You both need to get some rest,” Ginger Ale cut in, sounding so much like Merlin it actually hurt deep in his chest for the moment. “I’ll keep an eye on Merlin for you. Don’t worry, we’ve got a state of the art medical system, like you do overseas. If we can save him, we will.”

“You will,” Harry affirmed, before adding. “You know about Agent Whisky?” 

“I know,” she said. “Saw it all on his body mics and cams. We might need to bring those glasses you have into standard Statesman issue-- they’re a lot clearer than our footage. But yes, we know.”

Agent Tequila frowned at the idea of wearing the glasses all the time. “I’ll show you your quarters, Agents,” he said. “And to the medical bay. I’m sure Agent Merlin will be just fine.”

“I hope so,” Eggsy said. “I really hope so.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've listened to "No Time for Emotion" and "Not In Vain" about a hundred times this week so my thoughts are always on Merlin

By the time Eggsy had a long and tear-filled conversation with Tilde, another with his mum, taken a shower and scrubbed the dried blood from his face and neck, and wrapped what may have been some bruised or cracked ribs from Charlie pulling him through a wall, it had been two hours and Merlin was still in surgery. 

There was a quiet knock on the door and he pulled the bathrobe more securely around himself before going to answer. A young man-- well. A guy his age was waiting outside, a stack of clothing in his hands. “Yo, are you Galahad?” He checked something on his phone. “Eggsy?”

“That’s me,” Eggsy said. 

“Ginger Ale asked Vodka to send these up for you and for me to collect your other clothing so we can get it cleaned.”

“Vodka?” Eggsy asked, accepting the stack of clothing-- his own, Kingsman tailored original suit that he had worn before getting on the plane and changing. “Um, let me grab that clothing for you, bruv.”

“Vodka,” the young man confirmed. “She, Sake, and Absinthe are in charge of various branches of logistics, analysis, and general staff here. I’m Mark, I work under Vodka.” 

“Well, um.” Eggsy was caught a little off guard by the young man’s chatter-- there was a lot he wouldn’t have told any visitors to Kingsman, the code names of two extremely competent women and one extremely competent man who run-- ran-- the analysis, logistics, and R&D departments being one of them. Talkative, these Americans. “Oh, hold on--” Eggsy fumbled into the pants pocket and pulled out Merlin’s cracked glasses. “Thanks.” He gave the man a smile and closed the door firmly behind him, letting himself sink down onto the bed with the pile of familiar clothing in his arms-- the dark suit, the crisp white shirt. 

Igraine and Isolde and Erec-- the heads of the support departments, answering only to Arthur and Merlin-- he had liked them very much and now he didn’t know-- Merlin’s address hadn’t been in the databases, and maybe some of the others-- while not all the support team stayed at headquarters, some did-- who had made it out? Who was dead and buried in the rubble of a dozen bases? Had any of them made it? Were they looking for the rest? 

Eggsy suddenly found it impossible to sit still. He yanked off his robe, wincing at how the sudden movement made his ribs ache and began to pull on the suit, watching in the mirror as he straightened the cuffs and aligned the creases and made sure everything fell just so before sliding Merlin’s glasses into his pocket. Despite the neat suit-- the Statesman did a good job cleaning and pressing it-- he couldn’t hide how anxious and tired he looked. 

Another knock at the door. Eggsy fumbled his cuff link but managed not to drop it as he made his way across the room, threading it as he went. He opened the door to find Harry there, looking about how Eggsy felt; exhausted and gaunt and griefstricken but dressed to the nines. The Kingsman way. 

“‘Lo,” Eggsy said quietly. 

“Hello, Eggsy,” Harry said. “Brought you something.” He held out a box of ammo and Eggsy almost smiled. 

“Thanks.” He took the box and a step back. “Come in?” 

Harry nodded and entered, sitting at the heavy oak desk chair while Eggsy took off his suit jacket in order to load his pistol and shrug it into his shoulder holster. He pulled the jacket back on, heavy fabric settling over his shoulders. Eggsy fixed the collar and looked up to see Harry watching him, the traces of a lopsided smile lingering around his mouth and corners of his good eye. “What?” 

“It’s enjoyable,” Harry said, standing as Eggsy headed for the door. “Seeing you settled into being a Kingsman. I always knew you could.”

He sent a crooked half smile of his own back at Harry. “All thanks to you, bruv. Been a long year without you, but Merlin and Roxy--” His breath caught for a short second. “They’ve kept me on the narrow. Got a girlfriend, had a good run of missions. Mum and Daisy are away from Dean, living in a little flat not too far from where I live--your place.” He faltered again. Because of course, the house was gone too. JB. Brandon.

Harry’s hand landed heavily on his shoulder. “You all right?” he asked, sounding doubtful. 

“Eh,” Eggsy said, and changed the subject. “Where’r we goin’?” Up until this point he had been following Harry without asking. 

“We’ve been invited to eat with Ginger Ale and Agent Tequila, then to see Merlin. He should be out of surgery soon, although he’ll probably still be out. Then we should both sleep.” Harry steered Eggsy around the corner. 

“Where’s your room?” Eggsy asked. “Not still in the padded cell, righ’?” 

“No,” Harry rolled his eye. “I’m two down from you. I’ll show you before we go to bed; you can say hello to Peanut.” 

“... Peanut?”

“Ginger Ale named the puppy you brought while we were gone and the dog seems to have taken to the name.”

“Oh,” Eggsy smiled. “The puppy. Sorry I traumatized you, by the way, but… not really sorry.”

“Well, it worked, so job well done, I’d say.” 

They entered a cafeteria that was almost deserted. Fluorescent lights had been halved, cutting down the glare from the almost- empty tables. Far above, at least three stories up, skylights showed the clear stars of the dark nighttime sky. Surprised, Eggsy checked his watch. It was nearly nine-thirty at night-- the time zones had sure fucked him up. It didn’t feel any later than three. 

“Over here!” Ginger Ale waved them over to where she and Agent Tequila were sitting at a small table in the corner. “Hey, Agents.” 

“Hey,” Eggsy waved back and Harry nodded.

“Eat whatever you like,” she pointed out a long buffet along one wall. “It’s all fresh because there’s always staff and agents and who knows who all coming in at different hours.”

Eggsy wasn’t about to turn down food now-- even with the meat grinder in Poppy’s diner, he was starving. He hadn’t had a proper meal in days, not since dinner with Tilde and her parents. Four minutes later, he had a plate full of sausage and potatoes, a glass of bitter, and was ready to eat as fast as manners would allow-- Harry was next to him, after all. 

“I used your royal etiquette class,” he blurted out in Harry’s direction the moment Harry sat down with his own plate just as Tequila stood to get more. “Thanks for that.”

“Did you, now?” Harry asked, amused. “When was that?”

“Um. Four days ago?” Eggsy said. “I um,” he was sure he was blushing but he wasn’t going to be able to do anything about that at this point. “I may be seriously dating Princess Tilde of Sweden.”

“Shut up?!” Ginger Ale said, almost dropping her fork. “She’s my favorite!”

“Favorite what?” Eggsy asked.

“Royal! Of course, I watched the British Royal Wedding, but I like all of Tilde’s programs and she’s so pretty.” 

“Yeah, I’d agree with you on that one.” Eggsy smiled and took another bite. “Anyway, I had dinner with her parents. It actually didn’t go so... well…” Eggsy suddenly regretted bringing up the topic. “I was there when HQ went down. My mate Brandon… he was at my place. Your place,” he directed at Harry. “Watching JB. So I saw it through my glasses during dinner. Didn’t make a good impression. But probably sprinting out with hurried apologies probably didn’t help either.” He took a hasty drink and looked down at the table. 

They sat in silence for a moment until Tequila came back and plunked his plate loudly onto the table. “So, the terrier puppy. Peanut. What’s with that?” 

“Kingsman training,” Harry replies, picking up the change of subject gladly. “All trainees select a dog from a range of puppies on day two, provided you pass the flooded room test. We’re watching for a variety of items; why they pick their dog-- is it because it’s easy to train? A hunting dog?-- how they choose to train it and if they succeed, and how they react when there are problems. Then, for their final test…” Harry’s voice dropped and he took a sip of his pint. “They are asked to shoot their dog.”

Ginger Ale actually did drop her fork this time. Tequila set down his glass so hard the cutlery shook. “They what?!” 

“It’s a blank,” Eggsy said. “It’s about following orders, about whether you would shoot an innocent on command, about if you would take someone who looks innocent out if someone knows they’re part of something they shouldn't be.”

“And you did it?” Tequila asked.

“No, he didn’t,” Harry said. “That’s why Roxy became Lancelot instead.”

“And a damn fine agent she is. Was.” Eggsy’s voice went out again and he stopped talking. He rubbed the heel of his palm on the edge of the table. “Tilde got me-- us-- a new puppy. Already, after. I don’t know if he has a name yet.”

Eggsy didn’t look up, since he could feel three pairs (well, okay. Two and a half pairs) of sad eyes on him. So he stabbed a sausage with a little more force than might have been strictly necessary and then jumped when his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket with the intent of turning it off, but--

“Eggsy? What’s--” Harry asked. Eggsy had gone white and stood up so abruptly that Harry did as well, ready to move the second they were off to run somewhere. 

Eggsy slid his thumb across the phone and held it to his ear. “Hello? Hello?” 

There was a half second of silence and then Eggsy let out a most ungentlemanly like whoop of excitement. “Haha! Oh my days! I can’t belie-- where are you? Who-- Are you-- We’re in America, with the Statesman-- they’re like the American Kingsmen, we stopped Poppy, and Charlie was there too and-- you need to get here, Merlin’s been injured and-- yeah! We’ll find a way to get you here. I can’t believe it! You’re the best, okay. Talk to you later!” 

Eggsy ended the call and for a moment Harry thought he was about to spike the phone to the ground in his excitement but the young man settled for shoving his fist in his pocket and sprinting over to wrap his arms around Harry in a two second hug before throwing his hands in the air in victory and collapsing at the table. 

“Eggsy, who--” Ginger asked but Harry had worked it out, his eye lighting. He dropped into his own seat.

“She’s alive!?” he asked. “Roxy made it out?” 

“Yeah, bruv!” Eggsy’s voice was hoarse and his eyes were wet. “She’s a little beat up and was buried in the rubble for ages, but she got herself out and just made it to a safehouse. She’s okay. Roxy’s okay. And it sounds like maybe there were others there as well. Kingsman might not be as gone as we thought.” 

“Oh thank god,” Harry rubbed his face with his hands. “We can use all the Kingsmen we can get and from what I hear-- and from training-- Roxy’s one of the best.”

“You’re damn right about that.” Eggsy downed the rest of his drink. “Anyway, we need to get her here; I don’t suppose that could be arranged?” He glanced over at Ginger Ale and Tequila, the former of whom had a hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes and the later of whom looked suspiciously misty himself. “She and Merlin are friends, get along like a house on fire,” Eggsy told Harry. “She’ll want to come see him and of course he’ll need to know eventually that she’s fine.”

Ginger Ale smiled. “Of course. We could have you in London in six hours, if you want.” 

“I’ll do it,” Eggsy said. “I can talk to Tilde on the plane, explain everything to Roxy on the way back, and Harry can stay here to look after Merlin.” 

“Of course, Eggsy,” Harry nodded. “Now, if you’re going to be on a plane in an hour, you better get ready to go.” 

Eggsy stood and then hesitated, turning to Ginger Ale. “Can you fix something for me?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out Merlin’s glasses. “They’re Merlin’s-- not exactly standard Kingsman issue, but I’m more worried about the lens. They’re prescription and he needs them for more than the spy business.”

“Sure,” Ginger Ale took the glasses with a smile and set them on her clipboard. “Won’t take any time at all.”

They stopped by the medical wing before they left. It didn’t do them any good; Merlin was still in surgery. “Tell him hello and that he’s an idiot if he wakes up before I get back,” Eggsy directed. 

Harry grinned.

______________________________________________

 

“So… he took your place?” Roxy asked in a hushed voice, as if Merlin could hear them from their plane somewhere over the western edges of the Atlantic Ocean. She looked horrible; her face and arms were covered with bruises and her left arm was in a sling that cut the neat lines of her suit; she’d broken her collarbone. A piece of medical tape helped support a broken nose. Neither of them cared how she looked-- at least she was alive. 

“Yeah. Said “on the count of three, we’ll--,’” Eggsy described, mimicking Merlin’s Scottish accent. “And then shoved me right off and stepped on the fuckin’ mine.” He shook his head. He wasn’t going to tell Roxy about right after-- how scared he had been, how Merlin had told him he had been there when Eggsy’s father had died for them, to use his training, the training Merlin had given them, to save the world. “He sang. Did you know Merlin could sing?” 

“I caught him once, when he was at his station past midnight once. Was it John Denver?” Roxy asked, leaning forward to brace her good arm on her knees. “It’s his favourite.”

“Even Harry didn’t know that.” 

“I can’t believe Harry’s alive, I’m going to punch him square in the face for not telling us,” Roxy said.

“He didn’t know who we were, Rox,” Eggsy reminded her. 

“Still.”

“Anyway, I thought Merlin was gone--” Eggsy swallowed hard, remembering the feeling of guilt settling heavy in his stomach every time he had used one of Merlin’s precious secret gadgets during that final fight. “But then he took out a sniper on the roof and we found him by the gates-- he’d dragged himself over, Rox, at least thirty meters. He just about passed out when we got there, from blood loss at least-- we had to put him on a litter and carry him back to the plane.”

“So how is he? Really?” Roxy asked.

“He’s alive,” Eggsy said. “But, Rox, his legs…”

Roxy’s eyes shone and she gingerly switched seats to lean against his shoulder. “But he’s alive. We can deal with the legs. He’s alive.”

“Yeah. And he’ll be glad to know you’re alive, too, by the way.” 

______________________________________________

 

They were both exhausted by the time they got off the plane; both agents had slept but neither had slept well and it had been a long five days for the both of them. Eggsy helped Roxy move stiffly down the stairs, not the she really needed the help; she had dug herself out of the rubble of an explosion big enough to take out the Kingsman mansion and then climbed to safety with a broken collarbone, after all. But she didn’t seem to mind Eggsy’s steadying hand on her hips so he left it there. 

Harry was waiting a dozen meters from the aircraft stairs, glasses on and the Statesman agents nowhere in sight. 

“Lancelot. Good to see you again.” Harry held out a hand to shake, but to nobody’s surprise, Roxy bypassed the handshake and went in for a brief, cautious, hug instead. Harry accepted it with equanimity. “How’s your arm and shoulder?” Harry asked as she stepped back, his good eye tracing the sharp lines of the sling immobilizing her left arm and then following the bruising up to her face and over her broken nose.

“Hurts, but not bad. I fractured my collarbone. I’m on some painkillers.” Roxy shrugged her other shoulder. “How’s Merlin?”

“He’s stable. Got out of surgery about eight hours ago.” Harry took Roxy’s small bag from Eggsy and lead them towards the elevator set into the wall. “He woke up once around 0600 hours, but only for a minute and he was pretty groggy, still. They’ve done some checks and the Statesman doctors don’t think there’s any brain damage, but they need him to really wake up all the way to be sure. Besides that, there’s some extensive burns and cuts, mostly on his thighs and torso, and of course the damage to his legs.” 

Harry stopped talking as the elevator stopped and they moved down the hall outside their rooms. Harry opened the door on the other side of Eggsy’s room from where his and Merlin’s rooms were and gestured Roxy inside. He set her bag down at the desk. “This is your room, Lancelot. Eggsy is next door, Merlin’s room after that, and then mine.” 

“Can we go see him?” Roxy asked. 

“Briefly,” Harry conceded. “Then you two-- especially you, Lancelot-- need to eat and sleep. You’ll be no good to Merlin or Kingsman if you’re completely worn out.”

The two young agents nodded in unison and followed Harry back into the hall and down to the medical sector. Merlin was in a room not dissimilar to the one Harry had been in, although it lacked the padded floors, ability to flood, and the drawings of butterflies covering the walls. One wall had the distinctive pane of two way glass, currently made translucent so they could see through to where Merlin slept. 

Harry and Eggsy stepped to the side to let Roxy precede them into the room. “Oh, Merlin,” she breathed, moving forward to place one hand on the glass divider. Eggsy’s breath caught just behind her. 

Merlin looked small. That wasn’t something anybody ever said about Merlin; he was only a handful of centimeters short of a full two meter height and managed to intimidate all of Kingsman when needed. It helped that he was probably the most intelligent person in the building, had trained most of the agents, and had the ability to make their lives a living hell if they made impossibly idiotic decisions. Even when he was sitting at his desk, seen only through the screens of Kingsman glasses, Merlin managed to loom large.

But not now. The tech wizard’s face was still pale although no longer verging on grey and soot Harry and Eggsy had tried to carefully clean from his face on the plane was now completely gone. Eyes closed, his face looked different without his glasses and the rough beginning of a beard was starting to shadow his cheeks and chin. His arms were wrapped in bandages and the off-white hospital gown couldn’t completely hide the wrappings around sections of his torso as well. Several IV lines of clear fluid slid into one arm and a cannula ran under his nose, although his breathing was even. Most obvious though, were his legs. Eggsy caught Roxy’s hand and squeezed it tight. Both feet were clearly gone, judging by the shapes under the blankets, and now Merlin’s legs ended just below the knees, one a few centimeters longer than the other. 

“We’re hoping he wakes up again fairly soon,” Ginger Ale said from behind them. All three agents turned to see her smile faintly at all of them, a pair of medical staff poking at clipboards and tablets. “Hello,” her smile became a little more genuine as she turned to Roxy. “I’m Ginger Ale. Nice to meet you.”

“Lancelot. But as long as we’re not on the mission, call me Roxy.” Roxy extended her right hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, too. I’ve already heard a lot from Eggsy about you all.”

“Mostly good, I hope?” Ginger’s smile faltered again-- it couldn’t all be good, of course, not with Agent Whisky turning on two of the Kingsman agents. 

“Of course,” Roxy replied politely. 

Ginger took the out and turned to Eggsy. “And for you, Eggsy…” she pulled Merlin’s repaired glasses out of her pocket and handed them to him. Roxy’s eyes softened and her lips pinched in what Eggsy recognized as “trying not to cry”.

“Thanks, Ginger,” Eggsy blinked quickly a few times and slipped them into his own pocket before nudging Roxy with his shoulder. “Want to go say hello?”

She nodded and they made their way out of room and ten meters down the hall to the connecting door, letting it scan their palms before it unlocked and they could slide it open. The room was quiet, only the regular beep of the heart monitor and a few other instruments interrupting the hazy silence. Eggsy pulled over two chairs from near the door and settled them next to the bed, gently pushing Roxy into one. 

“‘Lo, Merlin,” he said quietly. “Brought you something.” He waved the glasses around and set them carefully onto the small bedside table. He half hoped the techie would wake up at the appearance of his beloved glasses, but there was nothing. 

They sat in silence for a moment until Roxy reached out and took Merlin’s hand with her good one. On the other side of the glass, Harry finished speaking to the medical staff and Ginger only to turn and find that agents Galahad and Lancelot were both asleep in chairs, Eggsy leaning sideways in his with one hand on Roxy’s knee and Roxy’s head resting on the hospital bed to keep weight off her shoulder, Merlin’s fingers still wrapped in hers. 

__________________________________________

 

Eggsy woke up an indeterminate time later with knots in his back and neck. He groaned and rolled his neck, checking his watch: ten thirty in the morning. He’d only been asleep for about four hours. Sighing, Eggsy stretched his arms and reached out to wake Roxy, who was still asleep, head pillowed by the hospital bed, her hand covering Merlin’s-- Merlin.

The haze of just waking up over lingering exhaustion popped like a soap bubble and suddenly Eggsy knew what had woken him, his eyes flying up the bed to Merlin’s face in time to see him blink once, slowly, hazel irises half covered by his eyelids. “Melin,” Eggsy couldn’t stop the grin. “You’re awake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Save Merlin? Save Roxy? Yes, pls.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days passed both in the blink of an eye and excruciatingly slowly as periods of enforced rest and overwhelming information about the destruction of the Kingsmen mingled with the first hours of work it would take to get the organization running as quickly as possible. 

The first day-- two days since the end of Poppy’s brief reign of terror-- had been almost comically unexciting compared to the chaos of the previous week. All of them had slept and ate, Roxy and Eggsy called their families and friends, assuring and reassuring that everyone was still alright. Harry had been forced to sleep by dint of settling Peanut on his lap; the puppy promptly fell asleep and Eggsy convinced his mentor it would be a crime to get up and wake the dog. Merlin had also slept off and on through the day, waking when the medical staff regularly came to change bandages on his legs and soothe the burns, cuts, and bruises. 

The second day was long. It only took three hours of Roxy, Eggsy, and Harry loitering obnoxiously around Merlin’s hospital room, getting in the med team’s way and fussing about unimportant details like the placement of their chairs, before the tech agent was annoyed enough to send them all out. 

“None of you steps foot back in this room unless you’re bringing me a laptop, a phone, and my clipboard,” he ruled firmly, glaring imperiously at them from his semi-reclined position in the hospital bed, somehow intimidating even though he was still wearing a hospital gown and there was a nurse working him through a range of motion exercise. “Please remember that I am in charge of training and will have you all running the obstacle course backwards as soon as possible if I am displeased.”

The nurse grinnned.

They trooped out, but an hour later, Merlin had his equipment (much to the vague displeasure of the medical team) and the other three Kingsmen, Ginger Ale, and Tequila had set up a Kingsman base camp of sorts in the corner of his hospital room. 

It was a good system; Harry had only been half joking about the potential horror of getting Kingsman on its feet without Merlin. Not only did the agent have a near-perfect memory, he had been working for Kingsman longer than any of them and had trained them all. He was the direct head of all three support teams-- R&D, Analysis, and Logistics, general names that almost couldn’t convey the magnitude of their work outfitting, transporting, guiding, healing, feeding, and generally assisting the team of twelve agents on their missions-- each of the Squires reported to him on their work and the work of their subordinates. Everything-- everything-- in Kingsman ran through Merlin at some point or another. 

And so they began the arduous process of rebuilding their organization. 

It was painful. Merlin pulled footage from traffic cams and passers-by and everyone winced as they watched the glass front and heavy door of Kingsman Tailoring get blown off the building, a billow of flame following it out. Aerial footage showed the entire mansion at headquarters had crumbled to the ground. Further investigation indicated explosions at the homes of eight Knights, all three Squires, and a handful of staff who had been particularly helpful or meaningful to the organization. Their homes, like Eggsy’s, were gone.

But it wasn’t all bad news; Merlin was pleased to find that most of the estate outside of the mansion was mostly untouched, the grounds and everything under them in a jumbled but workable state. That meant the fleets of cars and planes at their disposal, most of their arsenal was fine, the kennel, the riding stables, and the training grounds were all salvageable. 

Then there were the people. Precisely 168 hours, exactly 1 week, after Poppy had blown up their organization, three days after they had taken her down in return, the calls started to come in. 

Isolde and Erec were first; they had arrived at one of the London safehouse within hours of Poppy’s attack. The heads of R&D and logistics respectively, the duo was as competent as they came and had already started work on their own. They had begun the work the other four hadn’t been able to, busy as they had been with stopping Poppy and staying alive. Streams of data poured into Merlin and company’s computers and glasses, lists of people working on clearing and reconstructing the rubble of the shop, the mansion, and the ruined homes 24 hours a day. 

It was amazing how fast things could be cleared and rebuilt when there was a huge team of staff, there was no need to bring in outside forces to inspect anything because the highly trained staff were certified themselves, and everyone there was highly dedicated to their jobs, their organization, and fixing everything as quickly as possible.

Of course, it wasn’t all good news either. Merlin’s running list of the dead was growing ever longer as the people clearing out the rubble of the mansion, house, and shop, found those who, unlike Roxy, hadn’t been able to take cover in time or who hadn’t been lucky enough to be in a sheltered corner. The list was devastatingly long; Kingsman had employed upwards of three hundred people all told, from knights to workers in the kitchens, garages, and the shop. 

However, fortune had been on their side-- Poppy had attacked at night. While the mansion was large, it wasn’t big enough to house all the staff. While the agent quarters might have been in the mansion proper, the rest of the quarters were underground, protected from the bulk of the blast. Kingsman never truly slept, though, and there had been support teams for the four missions which had been in progress during the attack.

That part of the staff had been devastated.

Most of the knights were gone, but not all. Lancelot and Galahad had, of course, survived. They were contacted shortly after the support heads by Tristan, Bedevere, Ector, and Kay, all of whom had been out on missions when everything had been blown to hell and all of whom were spitting mad their homes were gone and were unanimously upset they had missed out on taking down Poppy. There was still no word from Dinadan, Pellinore, Caradoc, Safir, or Yawain nor from Arthur.

“So half the table is most likely dead, including Arthur,” Merlin summarized. “At least sixty members of the support teams are gone, roughly equal between departments. We’ve lost Igraine, but Isolde and Erec are okay.”

They were meeting in a small conference room the Statesmen had put aside for them; the four Kingsman, Ginger Ale, and Agent Tequila, who was being roped into the Kingsman business more and more by Champagne-- Eggsy suspected it was a ploy to instill some manners or class in the man. It was ten days since the explosions. Merlin was finally allowed out of bed, much to his relief. The medical team seemed to be on a crusade to get him moving again as quickly as he could heal. They had removed his catheter that morning (for which Merlin was grateful), helped him dress in his own clothing (which Eggsy had retrieved from the plane and the staff had then pinned the bottoms of the legs), talked him through transferring into wheelchair (which had been painful), handed him the button for his morphine, attached the IV line and pole to his chair so they moved as one, and sent him off with Harry to meet with the others. 

“I just got word from Erec,” Eggsy said. “Merlin, it’s Morgana. I’m sorry. She didn’t make it.”

Merlin sighed and rubbed his forehead. Morgana was really Christine, the exceptional young woman who was his second in command and whom he had been training as his protege. At this point, though, the names of the dead had ceased to be heart wrenching and were just mind-numbing. “Damn.” 

Roxy touched Merlin’s elbow silently as Eggsy continued, reading from his laptop. 

“They’ve also cleared almost the entire shop. Mark made it out-- he’s in the hospital with some broken ribs-- because Trevor took the few seconds they had and threw him back into dressing room three with the open bolt of Kingsman-issue cloth they were cutting. It protected him from everything but the blunt trauma. Trevor’s dead.” 

“Who are Morgana and Trevor?” Ginger, who had been taking copious notes on how Kingman was organized to compare with Statesman, asked. 

“Morgana was one of mine,” Merlin explained. “My right hand woman. Merlin usually trains someone under him to take over in case of an accident, since Merlin isn’t exactly a position you can just pull someone from the ranks to cover and you can’t just train a cohort like we do for the knights. Myself being an exception, of course,” Merlin added, but kept going before anyone could ask. “Morgana was the woman I was training as my backup.” 

“And Trevor was one of the tailors,” Harry put in. “He had been in the army for years, but didn’t want to keep fighting. After he left the service, Trevor wandered a bit before ending up working in a fabric company. We picked him up from there-- he had impeccable skill and taste, with the added bonus of being able to defend himself, the shop, and Kingsman. He’d been working for us for almost fifty years.”

Eggy’s fist tightened and snapped the pencil he was holding. Everyone looked at him and he dropped the pieces sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Roxy suddenly smiled. “Looks like we’re going to have more company; Isolde is coming out with a pair of people from her department to help arrange our return to London. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Not back to London,” Merlin said. 

Everyone looked at him. 

“Then where?” Eggsy asked. “We’re going to need to be on the ground in the area to organize. We can only do so much remotely.” 

“I, at least, am spending a few days in Scotland. I’ve got a cabin on the highlands,” the man said. “It would be good to be at home for a wee bit before returning to all the chaos of London.” Merlin shrugged. “You are all welcome to come with me, but I cannae have more than one other person in the cabin, there’s only one guest room. Unless you’re fine with the floor.”

Everyone looked at each other and shrugged. 

“Fine with us,” Roxy said.

Ginger Ale spoke up. “Champagne has arranged a meeting before you go. It’ll be tomorrow evening, after your compatriots arrive, although they will not be invited, I’m afraid.”

“Sounds good,” Eggsy replied. “Now can we take a break? I’m starving.”

Tequila nodded in agreement. “I’m with this one. Let’s go eat.” 

“We’re all due a break,” Harry said. “Merlin’s due back upstairs for measurements in an hour, though.”

________________________________________________

Merlin was exhausted; they had spent the last three hours in intensive physical therapy with the new prosthesis and his legs (and back and thighs and healing ribs) ached. He and Ginger were working on modifying some existing designs for a better weighted, more natural design, but that meant there were a lot of issues to work out and if he wore their current design for more than an hour, everything hurt. Harry had come in afterwards with the intention of working through the rebuilding of the shop, taken one look at Merlin-- half asleep and white as a sheet, morphine drip (which had graduated to a as-needed basis) back in his arm-- and bowed back out, leaving Merlin to take a nap before Isolde arrived. Generally, Merlin would have argued with him; rebuilding the organization would take precedence over everything else, after all. But he hurt (not that he would admit it to anyone outside of the medical staff) and it had been a long week. 

Merlin had finally drifted off on the edges of a hazy morphine cloud when the alarm began blaring, the lights in his room of medical (where he was still confined) cutting off for a moment before being replaced by the glow of red emergency lights. The loud sound yanked him back into full consciousness, the rush of adrenaline fighting the morphine dulling everything around him.

Merlin blinked at the light pulsing above him, feeling like his legs were made of cotton. This was bad. This was very bad. 

He shoved himself up in bed, everything around him spinning slightly as he took in everything around him in the room. The morphine and the pain and the brightly flashing lights and loud alarm were making it hard to think, but years of training were drumming in his brain: move. Move and be prepared to fight.

Movements clumsy, Merlin shut off the drip and unhooked the morphine drip from the port, fumbling the blankets off himself and half lifting, half falling into the wheelchair they had decided to permanently leave next to his bed. He gritted his teeth, wincing as the circular motion required to move the chair pulled the tight muscles in his back and stomach. Much to his relief, the door opened when he got close; the automatic feature was rigged to connect with the backup power. The hallway was bathed in the same dim red light. Merlin wheeled across the hall and looked out from the glass window overlooking the hangar bay. 

The problem became immediately evident. A Statesman plane was sitting on the runway, door open and the stairs down. That wasn’t unusual. However, the ten visible hostiles holding assault weapons to the heads of Eggsy, Ginger, Roxy, and a group of about twenty staff members who must have been in the area when they deplaned was certainly unusual. 

Merlin frowned, fighting through the haze in his head. What did he know. What did he know. Think. There had to be more of them, or the rest wouldn’t be standing so openly. They all wore the tight camo t-shirts, heavy boots, and retro-looking cargo pants the rest of Poppy’s soldiers had worn; they were what was left of the Golden Circle looking for revenge. They had to want something, or they wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot their hostages already. 

That was enough to be going on. But before Merlin could take the information and formulate a plan, the door at the end of the hall slid open and a pair of soldiers entered, armed to the teeth. The one in front locked onto him and raised a weapon. Merlin, having no weapon, not even his clipboard with the knife, raised his hands. 

They slowly approached him down the hall, speaking so quietly to each other that Merlin couldn’t hear them, although he could see their lips moving. He tried to read their lips, but in his foggy state, he couldn’t quite manage it. The soldiers walked up to him, sneers on faces. 

“Hey,” the shorter of the two said, reaching out with the barrel of his assault rifle to poke Merlin’s knee roughly. Merlin winced; that had hurt, even through the dredges of the morphine. “A gimp.”

“Hello,” Merlin said back and the sneers dropped into glares. The second soldier lifted his gun and Merlin’s window to think was gone. He lunged forwards, an involuntary grunt ripped from his throat as he shoved down with his thighs as hard as he could, giving him enough height and speed to get a hand and then the other arm around the shorter one’s neck, trapping the gun between them. From there, gravity took over, the soldier too surprised by the attack to stop Merlin from using his momentum to swing them down to the ground. He underestimated, though, and he ended up on the bottom, the soldier crushing his damaged legs and part of his healing ribs to the floor. Merlin shoved back the cry of pain, the agony finally shaking off the haze and pushing enough adrenaline into his system to properly speed along his movements. He yanked the large knife from the man’s belt before the other could bring the gun-- to unwieldy at close range and not meant for when your opponent was under you on the ground-- to bear. Merlin drove his wrist forward, lodging the blade in the soldier’s heart. 

Click.

The cocking rifle stopped him. The other soldier, who hadn’t had time to stop Merlin’s unexpected attack, had recovered and now had the rifle pointed at Merlin’s head. There wasn’t anything Merlin could do about it this time, half trapped as he was under the man’s companion, but Merlin still was ready to try, hand just twitching to pull the knife back out of the short soldier’s chest and flick it at the tall soldier’s head before the bullet reached him but before either of them could move, the soft snap of a silenced weapon reached his ears just as the standing soldier dropped where he stood, a bullet hole neatly between his eyes. 

Merlin twisted his head awkwardly just in time to see Harry and Tequila in the door, Harry’s gun still level, before the lights flicked on, blinding him briefly. More distantly, he registered the sounds of many weapons being discharged. He blinked twice and then they were there, Tequila shoving the tall soldier to the side and Harry reaching to wave a finger in front of Merlin’s eyes before touching the side of his glasses. 

“Got the last ones, Eggsy. Actually, Merlin got one of them. Could you kindly have Ginger Ale send a few members of the med team this way?” 

“Nice aim,” Tequila drawled, eyeing the man still on top of Merlin’s legs and torso and the knife between his ribs. 

“Ready, Merlin?” Harry asked. 

Merlin nodded and let his head thunk to the floor more harshly than he intended as Harry and Tequila lifted the corpse off of him, bringing another wave of pain and then a rush of relief so sharp he almost passed out, eyes drifting shut. 

Someone touched his neck and he jerked, eyes opening to see Harry’s fingers at his pulse point. Harry and Tequila were sharing a series of meaningful glances and before Merlin could decipher them he had been suddenly (humiliatingly) been picked up like a child. There wasn’t even time to protest, though, because Tequila already had him back into the medical room and onto the bed. Merlin considered protesting anyway, but Harry must have seen that in his face because he reattached Merlin’s morphine drip and Merlin was too happy about that to care about the previous moment. 

“Who were they?” he finally thought to ask as Harry went to bring the wheelchair back in and the sounds of footsteps reverberated down the hallways. “Poppy’s?”

“Yes,” Harry said, stepping back as two members of the medical staff arrived and started fussing over Merlin’s legs and chest. “They commandeered the last of the Statesman jets sent to retrieve and recover information. Fortunately, it seems like that was all of them and that none of them were the sharpest knives in the drawer. Statesman has quite the number of snipers, so despite Poppy’s men having the element of surprise, they have all been neutralized, with no more injuries on our end.”

“Well, Daniels, head of the plane supply team, got a papercut because he dropped a file folder when they arrived.” Ginger Ale entered the room, Eggsy and Roxy behind her looking cheerful and not even rumpled from the brief standoff. “He’s very put out. How is he?”

“No damage,” the head nurse reassured. “Although he’s certainly going to be glad for the morphine drip for the next few hours.”

“Aye,” Merlin agreed. “The soldier was no lightweight. Pity I couldn’t have twisted more so he landed next to me instead of on top.” His glasses flashed as he glanced at Ginger. “We’ll have to put it on the modification list.” 

“Yes, sir.” She grinned, as did everyone else. 

“I gotta say, Merlin,” Eggsy pointed out. “I didn’ expect to see you up and fighting so soon.”

Merlin shrugged. “Cannae keep the Scotsman down for long. Surely you remember that from hand to hand training, Eggsy.”

Roxy just laughed. “Good to have you back in action, Merlin.”

A sentiment with which everyone agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like there'll be one (short) chapter to finish after this. Thank you all for reading and leaving me comments, you're the best!


	4. Chapter 4

The autumn wind was blowing cold across the Scottish highlands. 

Towering rock formations loomed on the edges of scrub and gorse and at the base of a rising wall of stone, a small cabin sat, weatherworn but tidy-looking. A few dozen yards in front of the cabin, a tall bald man in a neat sweater, precisely pressed slacks, a pair of thick-framed glasses, and an impeccably tied tie stood somewhat stiffly, looking out at his homeland.

“Merlin!” A young woman called from the door to the cabin, the wind catching her voice and pulling the name off into the grey sky. She had a pair of glasses not dissimilar to the man’s and like him, was dressed impeccably in a neat suit. One arm was pulled loosely to her chest by a black sling, the other held an unusually thick clipboard. “Merlin!” she repeated and this time the man heard, turning cautiously and beginning to pick his way across the uneven ground, watching before he placed each footstep. 

“Sorry to bother you,” Roxy said when Merlin got within the last dozen feet to the doorway of his small home. “But Tequila called from London. They were able to move up the construction; the shop’s ready for modifications to the dressing room plans and they want to know if you’ll oversee, starting tomorrow if we can manage it. Also, Ginger Ale’s sending a dozen more staff to help with the mansion. Erec is arranging living quarters for them.” 

Merlin nodded accepting his clipboard. “Good. If we can finish clearing out the rubble within the month, we should have the fleet and the rest of the rest of the estate service teams ready to work on the mansion. Ginger’s staff can join them.” 

Roxy held the door open and Merlin entered, gingerly navigating the threshold; at least there were no steps in the house. That would be a problem when they got back to London the following day as his townhouse there certainly didn’t have that convenience. He wasn’t looking forwards to sleeping on his own sofa, but until he had a little more time and practice on the carbon fiber structures that now ended his legs or found the time to move-- tricky, that, when there were so many problems to attend to and so many of the Kingsman staff in temporary housing-- there would be no other choice. Entering the kitchen, Merlin found a seat at the table, Eggsy crossing from where he and Harry were debating the merits of eggs to slide a cup of Merlin’s favored coffee in front of the handler. 

“Thanks, Eggsy,” Merlin said. “Are you all coming down to London? I was thinking I’d leave in a few hours, spend the night in the city, and be at Savile Row early tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” Harry said. “We’ll find a place to stay somewhere.” 

“There’s room at mine for all ye besides me, if we sleep on chairs and floors like here, but that’s not practical in the long term and we’ll need to be at the top of our strength moving forward,” Merlin said, taking a sip of the coffee and turning to his clipboard. 

“I might spend a few nights with me mum and Daisy,” Eggsy said. “The rubble where Harry’s-- my-- house used to be might be almost clear, but there’s nothing there now. It’ll take time, with everything else being rebuilt too.”

“Harry and I will stay with you, Merlin, if you truly don’t mind,” Roxy said. “I could always go out to my parents, but they’re a bit too far from London for the convenience of a hotel and honestly, with all the questions, I’d rather not.”

“Besides,” Harry laughed, bringing over plates and setting the first in front of Roxy and passing the second to Merlin. “Ginger made us promise to look after you, as if you need proper looking after.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, but he smiled fondly. “I don’t mind, Roxy. I’ll have to be down on the sofa, at any rate; I’m afraid the stairs might be too much.”

Eggsy set down his fork. “I didn’t think of that; will you move somewhere else?”

Merlin shrugged. “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Not now, at least for the moment-- there’s too many other Kingsman staff we’re trying to rehome right now. It’ll be a problem, but one for the future.”

All three of his coworkers nodded and a companionable silence descended as they ate. 

When breakfast ended and Merlin took another moment to carefully stand and walk to the front door and out again onto the rocky ground of his homeland, Roxy, Harry, and Eggsy followed. 

Merlin breathed in the cool air blowing around them; it smelled like greenery and dusty stone, like coffee and peppermint and roses, like the past and future together.

Merlin smiled. It smelled like hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Thank you all for reading and for your feedback. You're the best!

**Author's Note:**

> This'll probably be three or four chapters. Hopefully one a week. I don't plan on really shipping anyone too much, so don't get excited:)  
> Let me know if there's anything in particular that you'd like to see!


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